


Grind

by Articianne



Series: A Series of Holes [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: DarkSideSpiceLatte, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Gloryhole, a continuation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 13:57:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Articianne/pseuds/Articianne
Summary: Who knew the cafhouses on Coruscant could have more perks than those lattes they serve? Kylo's starting to think the galaxy really has it out for him. In a good way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the SWverse gloryhole coffeeshop smut you need in your life! I think.

He absolutely detests the taste of caf. It’s far too bitter, tastes as if his tongue is ready to fall off. It never makes his bad days any better and perhaps only serves to make Kylo’s day worse. If he ends up ever stuck on any of the deserted junk planets in the galaxy with only caf to drink, _personally_ —he’ll rather not.

It really isn’t his mug of caf, then, as he stands at StarCredits glaring at the choices from behind a Tusken customer. He’s only here because he—he—well.

Kylo has many, _many_ more other things he can be doing. Like not thinking about the scavenger that once had his cock in her mouth—twice—three times in a cantina on Tatooine. He can stand to think about something else. Except since that night, he’s been hypersensitive to every fucking thing she’s been doing. Because their damn escapade in a miniscule room on a rickety bed somehow lit something in the Force between them. And now, sometimes he sees her with that FN-2187 and the Resistance pilot. Here. In this caf house. StarCredits, they call it.

Kylo tries to withhold a scowl at the Tusken in front of him. He’s been coming here for a couple days, unable to just _feel Rey_ here and not actually _see_ her. Since he learned they’d been connected, Kylo’s stopped leaving his end open. Rey evidently never learned to do that with her studies with _Luke Skywalker,_ so Kylo finds himself stuck always interrupted with her own thoughts. At any rate, he’s here now, stuck behind this Tusken. But he also doesn’t want to stand out by skulking in the corner, which is what an awful woman demanded he stop doing the first time he walked in. 

At least the lack of his mask made him fit in. He hasn’t gotten any questions about his scar.

The Tusken in front of him steps up to order his caf and Kylo instead looks around, deciding he might just get hot chocolate instead of the stars forbidden bitter drink he keeps subjugating himself to. His eyes scan through the caf house, narrowing at a couple Twi’lek in the corner, who eye a third by the trash bin. There are a couple human men sipping decorative mugs of caf by the window, chatting mindlessly about how many credits they spent on new durasteel for a construction project. The Tusken in front of Kylo finishes and Kylo takes his place, staring at the choices on the board above him.

“A hot chocolate with a shot of medium caf,” he says finally, opting for the caf anyway. The lady hrmphs and puts his order into the holo and it scans his face.

 _Two ticks,_ reads the holo. _Eight_ _credits._

Kylo pays and steps out of line, stares at one of the Twi’lek who is chatting under his breath with the other in the corner. They spot him and their lips quirk but otherwise do nothing, turning their eyes back to the other Twi’lek by the bin. Frowning, Kylo’s eyes switch to the door, turning his focus to wherever Rey is.

Rey.

She’s nowhere close to StarCreds right now. She’s off with her two _friends,_ FN-2187 and that pilot. But she’ll be here soon. She and the former Stormtrooper came here to make some credits on the side . . . they call it “doing their part for the Resistance”. Kylo always scoffs at this. He can’t imagine her calling that “her part” when she’s the person who found the last Jedi.

“Dark Spice Latte,” says the caf barista. “For Ren.”

Kylo blinks, turning his head back to the bored man with his caf. “I asked for a hot chocolate.”

“Says here you paid for a Dark Spice Latte,” says the man, pointing to the holo. “Eight credits.” Sure enough, that’s exactly what the holo read on its flickering screen. Clearly Kylo didn’t read it properly earlier, as the awkward snapshot of his face flashes at him beside his order, confirming it.

His ears sting. “Dark . . . fine.” Grudgingly, he takes the mug from him and moves to the corner of the cafhouse, keeping an eye out the window. The only open spot is near the two Twi’leks.

They grin again when he awkwardly fumbles with his tunic, sitting into a very uncomfortable small chair. “Need some help, boy?” one of them asks, his voice soft.

Kylo’s eyes stay plastered on the window. “No.” Twi’lek charms had a hard time working on him.

“He’s waiting for someone,” says the female Twi’lek. Her head cocks to the side. “I bet we can make your wait worthwhile, hm? You look very strong and important . . . you probably need a break.”

To any other fools, they’d be inconspicuous. Kylo takes a sip from his mug, attempts to withhold the worst grimace of his life from the dark spice, and says, “Maybe taking your reconnaissance efforts to a cantina instead would give you some more valuable information.” His eyes are still stuck on the window. Why is Rey taking so long? “Not here in a cafhouse.”

The Twi’leks’ demeanors shift violently. “Reconnaissance? You think we spy? Let’s go,” says the male Twi’lek, offended. And they leave him sitting in the corner, undisturbed as they take the third Twi’lek near the entrance and leave the cafhouse.

It isn’t like Kylo can use any sort of “break” here in a _cafhouse_ , anyway. Where in the world is he supposed to wrap a hand around his cock in this sort of place? Though it’s not as bad as the cantina on Tatooine. He didn’t _want_ to over there, but he did anyway (and he doesn’t regret it). It was disgusting in that cantina, with its cracked walls and stains on the floor. Compared to the cantina, this cafhouse is a blessing, because like the rest of Coruscant it’s at the very least clean. Kylo scowls.

What had happened at that cantina for three nights made Kylo obsessed, so much so that he’s here now, for some _inexplicable reason._ Perhaps for the expression on her face. Perhaps because he wants a continuation of whatever happened on Tatooine. Perhaps because the obsession he had _prior_ to Tatooine which he’d thought would have been solved by the cantina’s secrets instead only got much, much worse. Especially since she’s in every forsaken corner of his mind. Her and her two friends.

Kylo stares down into his mug of _dark spice caf_ and scowls even harder. It isn’t fair, he notes sourly, that she gets to spend her time not thinking about him while he’s constantly surrounded by _her_ everywhere. He never asked for this connection! Yet here it is, ever-present and fucking aggravating, something that makes him lose sleep and grow distracted.

Obviously coming here to see her in person will solve the problem, right? Kylo ignores the voice in his head that tells him if it’s failed once already, it’ll continue to fail, and he’ll just fall in a worse rut.

A shadow falls over the window and Kylo stares at it vacantly, absorbed in his thoughts. What in the damn galaxy is he supposed to say if she actually shows up? Oh, no, he hasn’t thought this through at all. She’s going to destroy him. Oh, no. It doesn’t matter that she sucked him off for three nights in a row months after Starkiller was destroyed. If she even sees his face here, she’ll try to give him a matching scar. Not to mention her friends. What the fuck is he doing here?

The shadow vanishes from the window and Kylo blinks before he notices he’s barely sweating. He should go. But he really can’t bother to stand up. And he still has to finish his caf. The dark spice isn’t so bad, after all.

When he’s finished, Kylo stands and sets his mug down by the bin to be washed before stepping out of the cafhouse into Coruscant’s busy streets, rubbing a tired hand over his face and letting it linger over the stretched ridges of his scar. Adjusting his tunic, he takes a look back at the cafhouse before joining the mingling crowd and making his way back to his temporary quarters. He completely fails to notice Rey staring through the window at the back at the cafhouse at where he’d been sitting and tracing the steps when he’d left.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, he shows up at the cafhouse because somehow, says the snide voice in his head, he’s convinced himself that it’s a good fucking idea to show Rey his face.

“Hi. It’s me, Kylo,” he says out loud, on his way to the cafhouse. “I. Ah. Just thought I’d stop by.”

He can’t decide what to say that would warrant him less of another scar on the face, really.

What’s he supposed to do? Keep his mask on and get blasted off the entire planet? Cause an interplanet incident? Well, that won’t be much of a surprise, he’s done that before. _That’s beside the point,_ he forces himself to think. _The point is not to give her a scare._

She’s not there again when he shows up. Annoyed, he orders a dark spice latte (surprisingly, it hadn’t been half bad the previous day) and sits in the same corner. The Twi’lek pair is there again. Kylo ignores them this time and they only sit and idly discuss plans for the afternoon.

That is, that’s what they do until the third Twi’lek shows up, and once she does they all leave; Kylo frowns. It must be a normal occurrence. He hasn’t been among common citizens since he’s been training with Snoke. He hasn’t needed to. Kylo’s only here because—well. Distantly, he notes he needs to send back a report on the status of Coruscant and the potential occupation of the First Order.

He decides to wait longer that day. He goes back, orders another mug of caf. Eight more credits, two more ticks. And longer. Another eight credits, and ticks pass him by as he stares past the window and watches the passing crowd.

Eight more credits, more and more ticks. He’s spent hours in the cafhouse. Fuck, Kylo needs to use the ‘fresher.

He stands up from the chair and deposits his mug by the bin, watching as others purchase their mugs of caf and drink them down sociably. The ‘freshers are down by the back entrance, which navigates through the end of a small hallway, and after a moment of glancing outside the window of StarCreds for Rey, he turns and stomps toward the ‘fresher.

The ‘fresher is clean, well-maintained, and decorated in a tempered red polish. A sign above the entrance reads on a holo for workers to sanitize their hands before returning outside. There are several nice portraits of Coruscant imperial fashion pieces around the ‘fresher, one hanging crookedly on the far side that catches his eye once Kylo finishes his business, lamely tugging his tunic back into place and washing up before seeing it.

He reaches over out of habit in order to straighten it out and instead it clatters to the floor and he yelps, fumbling and huffing through his hair that slips through its careful design into his eyes—fuck! At least the portrait hasn’t broken.

Aggravated, Kylo leans over and opts to just Force everything into a corner. Except something catches his eye.

Behind the portrait, in this spotless, sightly ‘fresher, had been a dark hole.

Kylo goes very red very fast.

His mind has to do some catching up to his fingers, which push away from the wall and immediately force him straight into the door. “Damn!” he says, muffled into his tunic, wondering why _of all places_ there has to be a hole for a cock right here in this StarCreds. There isn’t anyone around in this ‘fresher and yet he feels as if he’s just been caught in front of an entire crowd.

As if the hole is personally going to attack him, he lifts a hand, levitates the fashion piece portrait from the floor, and hangs it back in place, having to do it multiple times because it keeps fucking falling. Obviously this is a popular hole. Shit.

Kylo curses, multiple times in quick succession, and decides to leave. On his way out he doesn’t notice the portrait wiggle and shake before falling to the floor, followed by a short huff of frustration from the other side.

 

* * *

 

Where in the galaxy _is_ she?

He could look through their connection, but it’s been muddled, as if she’s been learning how to block him. He has no idea if she’s even still coming here. If Rey still spends time with that traitor Stormtrooper and that Resistance pilot. _She calls him Finn,_ says that horrible little voice. _And the other’s Poe._

Who even cares? Certainly not him. Right?

At any rate, he’s had his fifth cup of this ridiculous caf and his head is about to burst. It’s why he absolutely hates these places. He really isn’t great at exhibiting control over— _oh, yes, because that’s all you have trouble controlling,_ comes that awful voice. Kylo shoves it away, tries very hard not to think of Rey and a hole in the ‘fresher.

It turns out that, as _luck would have it,_ telling himself not to think of Rey and a hole in the ‘fresher makes Kylo think of Rey and a hole in the ‘fresher. Makes him feel his neck go hot under his tunic at the thought of Rey on the opposite side, kissing the head of his cock like she was prone to doing ( _prone? Three nights, how would you know?_ ) as he braces the wall with his arms, sweating against strapped sleeves. As she grins, teeth barely against his skin, letting him wait. As she pumps him slowly like he _knows_ she does when she’s working with tech _. How do you know that?_ says that nosy voice.

He almost comes in his pants, embarrassingly enough. Kylo straightens, stares at the window, thankful for his tunic. _Report,_ he tells himself. _Report for the First Order. For Supreme Leader Snoke. Lord Snoke. Snoke. Snoke._ Snoke was working. Thank the galaxy.

The two Twi’leks are there again, staring past him at the back entrance. One of them makes to get up and the other whispers something into his ear. “She’s been in there a very long time,” says the male Twi’lek.

Kylo takes a sip of his dark spice caf.

“Looked sick. Red,” the Twi’lek continues to the other. “Works here, I’ve seen her a couple times this past week.”

Kylo chokes.

The Twi’leks look over and he quickly drinks some more, scalding his throat, ignoring them as best he can. When his eyes stop watering, he stands and takes his mug near the bin before making a bee-line for the ‘freshers. He can’t stop himself; his feet move despite the horrible alarm in his head, and before he knows it, he’s removing the portrait from the wall and halfway already out of his tunic.

 _Slow down! I can’t keep up with you,_ says the voice, and Kylo promptly loses his balance.

“Rey?” he demands out loud, staring at the hole, and a finger pops right through. _Shut up,_ comes her voice in his head. Oh, no. She’s been in his head the entire time and he hasn’t even _noticed._

 _You’re very obvious, you know,_ she continues, matter-of-fact. Her finger waves before disappearing again. _How much caf have you had, anyway?_ He almost misses that question; he’s too busy trying to grapple with what’s happening. Is he supposed to just act like nothing serious is happening? Like outside of StarCreds, they’re ready to kill each other?

 _Yes. Maker, just get it over with. I need this as much as you do and you know that,_ she replies, irritated, and he nearly trips over his boots in his haste. But he’s too soft, he’s been thinking about Snoke. Fuck, this is embarrassing.  Rey agrees with him in his head and then proceeds to tell him to hurry up and she’ll make it work anyway.

 _You really know how to charm a man, don’t you?_ he says, finally getting the hang of it. This is by far the least attractive thing he’s ever experienced.

 _I’m not really trying to charm anyone,_ comes her indignant response. _I’ve been waiting in this damn ‘fresher every day since I knew you were waiting here and not once have you noticed this until yesterday. I’m really quite impatient!_

With that, he slips his cock through the hole and nearly blacks out when her warm hand takes a hold of him. He’s half-hard, now, but easier to work with, and she says, _That’s better, isn’t it?_

 _Don’t talk,_ he says, which she immediately ignores. Of course she’ll ignore him. She’s been waiting to have his cock in her hand for nearly a week. _You know,_ she says passively, _I could leave you here and see you next time with a ‘saber in my hand._

Kylo huffs slightly, furrowing his brow as his forehead leans against the wall. Her hand on the other side of the wall is caressing the length of his cock, trailing a finger slowly from the wall to his tip. Lips lay gently on his head again. _You said I liked to do this?_ she tells him, and he can hear the smile on her face. Then she lays her lips on his head longer, draws it out—and he bucks against the wall as all the blood rushes through his veins. She never stops. Almost doesn’t know how to stop.

 _You have a spot, here. A freckle,_ she says, and rubs a finger under his shaft. He can’t help it, bites his lips and almost whines against the door. _Shit. Rey! Come on,_ he tells her, but she just presses another kiss against the head of his dick again. Fuck! His hand splays against the wall, one of them knuckling against the red polish, the other pulling in his hair as his cock stiffens even more. His tunic’s too hot. Too hot. Too hot—

Then she takes his whole fucking cock in her mouth, works him like he’s a piece of metal to be polished. Like she’s one of those parts she traded in for portions on Jakku, the things he’s seen inside her head.  She licks and hums as he pants into his collar, his scar feeling uncomfortably hot at her motions. “Ah. Rey!” he has to say aloud. “Stop. _Slow down,_ I can’t last that long—”

She slows down barely, if only to squeeze at his base, and his eyes squeeze shut. “ _Rey, please._ ”

 _Rey, please,_ she parrots, before taking his whole cock in her mouth again. She talks to him like this, too.  Voice as clear in his ear like she’s whispering. _You taste like that Dark Side Spice Latte they serve here,_ she murmurs through the Force. _It’s not half bad._

Kylo can’t even form a proper fucking reply. He’s got one hand now at his balls while she sucks him off at the other end. Fuck.

She releases his cock with a pop. _With a shot of caf?_

Fuck fuck.

 _But you mostly taste like hot chocolate,_ she tells him with the longest, slowest pump of her life, and his knees almost fail him. _I’ve never had hot chocolate before and I’ve worked here. I think it tastes pretty good._ Fuck fuck fuck!

He comes—not sure _where_ he comes, but she says nothing about it—with his eyes seeing white and purple. She’s gotten better at it since the last time, which he doesn’t want to think about, partly because he doesn’t want to think of her with anyone else and partly because she’s licking him off. _Never leave a job half-finished, do you?_ he manages, feeling sweat trickle over his temple and down past his scar.

 _I’m not finished._ Blunt. Kylo swallows.

She sends him a very vivid image of her taking her preferred route back to her temporary quarters, into what looks like a crowded, yet comfortable common place in one of Coruscant’s Resistance-heavy districts. _You want me to go through there?_

_Scared?_

He scoffs despite himself.

Rey pulls away, and he hears her put herself together on the other side of the ‘fresher. Kylo gets ready himself, something tightening in his gut as he stares at himself in the reflective holo. He says nothing, and neither does she, and he gets dressed in his dark tunic as if he’s preparing to leave for a very important mission—straight to the Resistance populated districts of Coruscant. He’d be learning why she was here, which is an important question in and of itself, and of course there’s other information to be gained on the Resistance itself in the city.

He doesn’t bother hiding this from Rey, just as she doesn’t bother hiding the fact that she’s very well not responsible for him if anything happens to him when he comes. It’s almost a trap. It’s definitely a lure.

Does Kylo care? At this point, no.

 

* * *

 

This scavenger has had his dick in her mouth four times and yet he still can’t quite figure her out.

Honestly, it’s as if the whole galaxy wants to laugh at him. It’s not unpopular, this sentiment he gets every once in a while when he’s thinking about how everything in the galaxy just decides to not go in his direction. Except, for once in his life, it looks like he’s alright. The only thing that stands apart is Rey, who’s watching him with a bright smile from the top of the steps in the building she’s led him to. They’re above a common cantina, citizens mingling with drinks, and he has to wade through them to climb the stairs and get to her.

Always leading him through these obstacles. Kylo can’t figure her out. How is she so capable of making him _follow_ her instead of him getting her to come to him?

So he finds her at the top of the stairs and, as she presses her back against a door slightly standing ajar from the threshold, he descends on her, presses his lips on hers, and almost causes the two of them to fall into the empty room as the door swings open. “Shit!” he says under his breath, and she breathes out a small laugh, eyes shining. And then she grabs his tunic again and molds her lips on his once more and pulls at his hair, kicking the door shut behind her with her foot.

They tumble against the wall, Kylo managing through his thick gloves to pull apart her bottom bun. She likes to trace a hand on his scar, he finds, and it’s probably because she’s proud of herself for even making it in the first place. “I think it looks rather endearing,” she tells him, looking flushed with pride as he scowls under her fingers. And then she kisses just under his right eye before meeting his lips again, tongue pressing against the chapped skin.

Kylo spends an enormous amount of time admiring the curve of her neck again, the way she squirms away as he traces a thumb along the side of it, the way her eyes lower to his lips, to his jaw, down through his tunic where his scar disappears. “You’re a very curious scavenger, aren’t you?” he notes, and she raises her chin at him, almost giving him a challenge.

“See for yourself. I’ll have you know my curiosity does me wonders.”

“It does. I’ve seen it at work. Multiple times.” It’s supposed to be suave, charming line, but his voice cracks at the thought of it and his face goes scarlet, he fucking knows it. Rey pulls away, holding a hand to her mouth with a silent laugh, and he leans his head back against the wall, frustrated.

“It’s okay. You’ll learn,” she says, and there’s a silent understanding that apparently this isn’t the last time. “Come on, then. I can’t imagine you’ve spent all those credits drinking caf only to have me make fun of you.”

 _Who cares about credits?_ he thinks dazedly as she pulls him back down again, tugging at her vest, letting it fall to the floor. “Rey,” he sighs aloud, against her neck, and she tilts back to give him room. Whispering her name against the skin of her neck once, twice, ten times, he finds she’s undone his tunic to let it fall to the floor as he’d done with her. “Rey,” he says again, for the umpteenth time. She runs a finger along his nipple, traces both of them with a skilled tongue, and he’s chanting her name in his head. “Rey,” he says once more, and she silences him by rubbing him every so slowly through his pants, stiff and hard again.

“You like this,” she marvels. “You _like_ this.”

“Of course I do. You’re very good at it.” Kylo’s voice is slurred with pleasure.

She takes the compliment in stride, standing, palming him with a tight hand. But Kylo’s mind is lit with adrenaline and need and he finds she’s not doing it nearly fast enough. Rey knows this, of course. She’s just being difficult about it. Fuck. He loves her.

If Rey knows that, she says nothing.

With the realization, he flips her around, presses her into the wall and breathes “Rey” once more against her mouth. “Show you,” he says, almost inaudibly, “the ways of—”

“—the Force, I get it, you really need some new lines—”

He ignores this, instead helps her out of her trousers. Feels the way she’s ready for him, how she hitches a leg against small of his back and sighs. How he has to press against her before letting himself out of his own pants, digging his face into the bend of her neck. Ever so slightly he can feel her response to what he’s doing, how relaxed she is with his hands working through her smallclothes, the hands that smell almost permanently like caf. How he flicks at her nub with a gloved finger causes her to breathe in sharply before exhaling his name—“ _Kylo”_ —in his ear. How her hands run along his strapped sleeves and beg him to hurry up.

Finally, he moves her small clothes aside and pushes into her like she’s been fucking waiting for it, which she _has_ been, and it’s some sort of different galaxy altogether. Something that makes his head pound and his fingers curl. An afterlife he’s never imagined, something he’s barely experienced those three nights in Tatooine. Here where there’s no one else, it’s just the two of them who don’t obey the proper laws and etiquettes of the term “enemy”. It’s the two of them, he finds, who enjoy this—this horrible _dance_ they have, where Rey finds him and leads him to a quiet cove of heady pants.

She’s so tight and it’s everything Kylo’s missed and more. Her hand pulls him closer, guides his own gloved hand properly where it should be—working her until they both see colors beneath their eyelids. Where his glove becomes slick their pleasure. Where she bites into the scar on his shoulder and he comes undone one, two, three thrusts later, and he rides it out anyway, needing her to finish too. And when she does, it’s like Kylo comes undone all over again.

They stay against the wall for a solid two more minutes. As it ticks by, Kylo comes to the sudden realization that he has an awful affinity for these affairs against _walls_ , and Rey snorts.

“Walls,” she says softly, pushing him away, and he watches her, uncaring. She’s very beautiful, Kylo realizes. For once he realizes it out loud. Or, rather, in a conscious state of mind.

“You know,” she continues as she robes herself, casting a look at him with bright eyes, “once upon a time, you could have walked through these districts with no trouble.”

It takes him a couple ticks to realize Rey’s talking about the Resistance-heavy districts. There’s no room in him to argue right now. Normally, he would, but right now he’s just trying to figure out how to get her to stay. As always, that’s what Kylo’s trying to do.

“You still might,” she admits. “But it depends, you know. On what you plan on doing.”

“You have yet to make a choice yourself,” Kylo says to her, eyes plastered on the way her fingers readjust her sleeves. On the way they reveal her ‘saber at her waist. “Why were you even here? Were you working at the cafhouse?”

“I was, along with Finn and Poe.” Rey cringes. “The two you don’t like. I wanted to work there to get some credits because I like to help out. Finn doesn’t do anything without me, and Poe likes to show off. But since I knew you were here, I told them to stop coming.” At this, Kylo opens his mouth, but she assures him, “No, I told them to stop because I told them _I_ was stopping. But I didn’t.”

There’s a very long, pregnant silence at this, but it’s not uncomfortable. Rey breathes in, takes a look over her shoulder at the door.

“I have to leave,” she tells him.

Kylo has absolutely nothing to say to that at this point. He can tell her to stay, but she won’t. He can tell her to go, and she will. Either way he’ll probably be going back to StarCreds. For some hot chocolate with a shot of caf. His mind is racing in ten different directions.

“I want you to stay,” he says out loud, but by the time he’s said it, Rey’s already gone, taking advantage of his silence. 

 

* * *

 

At the cafhouse, Kylo orders a hot chocolate with a shot of caf and they get it right.

“It’s on the house,” says the caf barista, looking uninterested at his surprise. “Note here says ‘Give the man with a scar on his face and an embarrassing flare for drama free hot chocolate with a shot of caf’.”

 _Thanks_ , he says to Rey. Somewhere in the galaxy, either in Coruscant or back at the Resistance's base, her lips quirk upwards into the slightest smile. 

**Author's Note:**

> oh man hope you guys liked it!!! we always need more gloryholes.


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